


the inherent eroticism of coordinating schedules

by mozaikmage



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Chatting & Messaging, I know I'm not valid and I accept this, M/M, Studying, Texting, ennofuta if you believe, hi tag wranglers ur doing great love u
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-11-28 19:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20971517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozaikmage/pseuds/mozaikmage
Summary: Tetsurou Kuroo, Editor-in-Chief of the college lit mag "Langue de Chat," thinks the lit mag and the Flying Crows Dance Crew should do an inter-club collaboration. Dance Crew captain Daichi Sawamura isn't sure how that's going to work. Meanwhile, the Environmental Club and Anime Club butt heads over a scheduling conflict involving the school auditorium.An AU in which all of the Haikyuu!! volleyball teams are instead different school clubs at one university.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the most on my bullshit I have ever been in my entire life.  
title is a play on a running joke from doubleca5t's what your favorite [fandom] ship says about you  
in this AU everyone goes to a single nonspecific american college that is in my head a mishmash of mine/my many friends' american colleges. just go with it  


It’s only the first week of the new school year, and Daichi Sawamura’s already sleep deprived.

He’s chugging an energy drink right at the Flying Crows Dance Crew table at their university club fair, hoping his eyes will look less dead through sheer force of willpower. The club fair’s outside on the quad in the early afternoon, and the sunlight feels too sharp and bright for this time of day. It’s bright and loud and unseasonably warm, and yet, Daichi is here. Sitting at this club fair table, surrounded by other, similar club fair tables. Because he likes his dance crew, and didn’t say no in time when they voted him club president a few months ago.

Behind the plastic university-issue table, the Flying Crows are using the green lawn as a dance floor to show off their latest routine and draw in visitors. Chikara’s walking around with flyers advertising the Student Talent Showcase thing they’re performing in at the end of the month, while Shouyou puts his hyperactive positivity to work pulling nervous-looking freshmen towards their table and getting them to sign up for the mailing list. Part of Daichi wishes he could be in that group like he was last year, before he was the Club President and actually responsible for things, but most of Daichi is exhausted and happy to be sitting in a chair right now.

They’re doing pretty well for today, Daichi thinks, glancing at the sign-up sheet. They’re on the third piece of paper already, and they’ve only been set up for an hour so far. They also have a plastic bowl of free candy to bribe people into signing up, brochures and informational booklets beautifully designed by Hitoka Yachi, a graphic design major on the girl’s squad. A tablet playing video clips of last year’s performances completes the setup. It looks great, if Daichi says so himself.

Suga, sitting beside him, smacks his shoulder hard enough to dislocate it. “Smile, captain!” he demands. “Make a good first impression on all the freshies!”

“Thank you for the advice,  _ Vice-captain _ .” Daichi glares at him, finishes his drink and crushes the can flat with the palm of his hand. The freshman reading their brochure squeaks in fear. Suga holds back a giggle.

Daichi smiles at the freshman. “Do you like dancing?”

“Uh,” the kid says. “I don’t know, I’ve never really tried it before? But it looks cool?”

“That’s great. We welcome newcomers,” Suga replies, beaming innocently. “We’ll have a few workshops on dance basics coming up in the next few weeks if you’re interested in learning some moves that’ll make you look cool at parties.”

The kid tilts their head to the side, considering. They sigh, pick up a pen and sign their name to the mailing list.

“Thank you~!” Suga trills as the kid walks away. Daichi leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, hoping to catch maybe a few milliseconds of sleep.

He’d stayed up all night in the Arts and Humanities Library trying to get the fancy printers to print their flyers for today, because the normal ones couldn’t print the right resolution or something and everything turned out too dark. And then he found Hitoka in there making her little mini-book things, “zines” or whatever she called them, and she gave him all these advanced tips and tricks that just made the whole process even more complicated, and then around 4 a. m. Asahi sent him a message that he won’t be able to make the club fair because of some bullshit excuse like food poisoning or whatever and—

He didn’t get a lot of sleep, is the point.

“Not bad, not bad,” says a voice from somewhere above them. Daichi reluctantly opens his eyes to spot Tetsurou Kuroo, Editor-in-Chief of the Langue du Chat Literary Magazine, looming over their table.

“What do you want, Kuroo,” he deadpans.

Tetsurou widens his eyes in a display of injured innocence. “Sawamura, how rude! Do you speak to all your prospective club members like that?”

Suga snickers. Suga seems to find Tetsurou’s presence deeply, innately amusing, Daichi's noticed, as he’s always on the verge of laughing every time he sees Tetsurou and Daichi in the same space. Daichi has no idea why this is. 

“Sorry,” Daichi says around a massive yawn. “Busy night.”

“Oh, I bet.” Tetsurou nods wisely. “Preparing for the club fair and all.”

“Yup. So what’re you doing here? Student media’s at the other end of the row.”

Instead of answering, Tetsurou looks behind the table at the Flying Crows. They get a five minute break every twenty minutes, and most of them can’t stay for the full club fair anyway, having other commitments that overlap with it. But the guys’ spirits do seem to be flagging a bit. Or, more of them are stopping to chat with passerby instead of dancing. Daichi doesn’t blame them. It is weirdly hot for this time of year, he thinks, pulling his shirt up and using the edge to wipe some sweat off his forehead without thinking.

Tetsurou opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it, flushing slightly.

“Kuroo,” Daichi says.

Tetsurou blinks, startled, and then recovers. “I was just—we’ve got a cooler of popsicles, at our table. Not for the freshies. Shibayama’s going around sharing them with the other club reps right now. Uh. Do you guys want some? Because I brought. Some popsicles.” He holds up a massive ziplock bag filled with long plastic-covered frozen neon sticks. “Should be enough for all of you?”

Daichi stares at the bag. Then at Tetsurou. “What’s the catch?”

“Why does there have to be a catch?” Tetsurou huffs. “I’m always this nice!”

Daichi doesn’t say anything, just waits.

Tetsurou glances sideways for a second, and then grins, that sharp and mischievous grin Daichi’s always kind of liked seeing. “We should collab. Our clubs, I mean. The lit mag could do a dance-themed issue. Or we could do a profile on you for the club spotlight section of the paper. Or you guys could get in touch with your creative sides and come up with some kind of multidisciplinary venture.”

Daichi’s eyebrows, which started to rise at the word “collab,” reach a maximum height and stay there. Suga starts to reach for the ziplock, but gets distracted by a new student coming up to their table.

“You think the lit mag and the dance crew should… collaborate,” Daichi says slowly. Like an aquarium collaborating with a bike shop.

Tetsurou nods enthusiastically. “We could do like a joint fundraiser thing! Instead of constantly fighting over the auditorium like certain club officers I won’t name.”

Suga, tuning back into the conversation, cackles loudly; he’s good friends with Tooru Oikawa, the environmental club president who’s been squabbling with the anime club since their freshman year. “I think that sounds like an interesting proposal, Tetsurou,” Suga says, grinning like he knows something they don’t. It’s his most terrifying and most frequent expression. “Why don’t you and Daichi exchange numbers and figure out the details over text?”

“Suga,” both Tetsurou and Daichi hiss at the same time. They make eye contact and laugh awkwardly.

It is kind of weird, that after three entire years of orbiting similar circles of friends and seeing each other at all sorts of school extracurricular events, they’d never really bothered to exchange phone numbers before, huh. They’d never had any classes together, so it just kind of… didn’t happen. 

Daichi glares at Suga, pulls the plastic bag out of Tetsurou’s hands and tosses it at Suga. “Go hand these out to the dancers, instead of being a nuisance.”

Suga does a mock salute. “Aye-aye, Cap’n!”

Once Suga leaves, Daichi slides his phone across the orange tablecloth-covered table. “Put your number in, I guess.”

“Wow, you’re so enthusiastic about our future partnership,” Tetsurou snarks, but pulls his own phone out of his pocket anyway. His silicone case has little flaps sticking off the top of it shaped like cat ears, and a tail next to the charging port at the bottom.

“Cute,” Daichi says absentmindedly as he types his contact information.

Tetsurou nearly drops Daichi’s phone. “W-what?”

“The case,” Daichi clarifies. “Are you a cat person?”

“Oh.” Something flickers in Tetsurou’s gaze, but it’s gone and he’s the same smug bastard he always is. “Yeah, I am. If you open the photos app I have a whole folder of cat pics in there. You can look, I trust you.”

Daichi’s face feels warm, suddenly. He’s not sure why. He’s not sure why Tetsurou trusts him even though they’ve had pretty minimal interactions, for all that they’ve known each other for three years. He opens the cat photo folder.

It’s subdivided into “Link and Zelda <3”, “Friends’ Cats,” “Stray Cats” and “Meme Cats.” Daichi has no idea what he was expecting.

“Tetsurou,” Daichi says, “you’re a nerd, you know that? Who are Link and Zelda?”

Tetsurou grins at him again, but this one feels more genuine than smug. “So I’ve been told. Link and Zelda are my cats back home. My apartment here doesn’t allow pets, so.” He shrugs.

Daichi stares at the photo he’d pulled up, depicting two black-and-white cats sleeping on a couch together. “Cute,” he says again.

Suga chooses this moment to return from his mission, licking a pink popsicle threatening to drip down his bare arm and carrying a red one for Daichi.

“I’m surprised you remembered my favorite,” Daichi tells him, taking the ice stick and tearing it open.

“I didn’t, this was just the last one.” Suga sits back in his chair again with a satisfied sigh, biting off a chunk of popsicle. “Thank you so much, Tetsu, you’re a lifesaver, I swear.”

The dance crew members wave at them from the field, some of them sticking their tongues out to show that they’ve changed color from the popsicles.

Tetsurou waves back. “It was nothing, really. Glad you enjoyed.” He points at Daichi. “But I’m holding you to the collab thing, now.”

Daichi nods absently, concentrating on the popsicle. 

“I can’t believe these innocent frozen delights were instruments in a blood pact,” Suga sighs mournfully.

Tetsurou squints at him. “Have you ever considered writing for us?”

Suga shakes his head. “My heart belongs to the Flying Crow, sorry.” As if to demonstrate, he jumps up and does some of the choreography from their last performance behind the table. Daichi and Tetsurou clap obligingly.

It feels like the popsicle helps wake Daichi up more than the energy drink. Maybe because it’s so cold, or its sweetness, or maybe it was just talking to someone like Tetsurou for more than a minute in a row. But when Tetsurou finally goes back to his own club’s table, Daichi’s sitting upright, feeling alert and focused and ready to wave at prospective new dance crew members. By the time Kiyoko shows up to take over, they’d filled two more sign-up sheets and Suga was finally done asking Daichi if anything interesting had happened while he was gone.

“I really do think this collaboration thing could be good for us,” Suga tells him. “Get some good PR, since they work with the newspaper and the art club.” But he’s still smiling that one smile, and Daichi does not trust it at all.

“That’s great,” Daichi says, and pulls his backpack out from under the table. “I gotta go, tutoring someone in the Engineering Library.” He nods at Kiyoko, who’s standing patiently next to the table. “Kiyoko, it’s up to you now.” She blinks, impassive face not betraying any anxiety she might be feeling at being a representative of the club. She was an excellent treasurer and great at performing on stage in front of hundreds of people, but social situations, Daichi knew, still gave her a bit of difficulty.

“See you~!” Suga singsongs after him. Daichi jogs down the path between the club tables, weaving around students and stopping to grab any particularly interesting freebies he sees, like custom pencils or stickers or magnets.

He doesn’t need to go by the lit mag’s table to get to the Engineering Library, but it’s a perfectly valid path to take. Daichi slows down as he passes them. Their table has old issues fanned out in an attractive pattern, Tetsurou standing up and chatting to three bemused-looking girls, and Morisuke Yaku helping a freshman put his info into their Google form sign-up thing. That’s a pretty good idea, Daichi thinks, no need to parse messy handwriting to type in emails by hand. Maybe they’ll try it next semester.

Tetsurou catches him looking and waves, face flushing slightly. Daichi smiles and waves back.

And if he’s still smiling a little when he runs into the library, well. That’s his business.

***

The first annual meeting of the Inter-Club Council descends into chaos within approximately fifteen minutes. Which, according to the records from the previous school year, is ten minutes faster than last time.

It starts off innocuously enough: all the official school club presidents and vice presidents help themselves to cookies and iced tea, sit down around the long conference table, and introduce themselves and their organizations.

Then they get to Kaname Moniwa at the head of the table, who smiles gently and says, “As the president of the student council, I approve budget, fundraising and grant proposals for student organizations, and if you want to reserve a space on campus or borrow university equipment for an event or something, I can make that happen as well.”

The room applauds politely, as they did at everyone else’s introductions. And then Tooru Oikawa raises his hand and says, “Hi, yes, could I possibly talk to you about the Environmental Club’s Earth Day event plans for this year?”

Kaname’s smile wavers slightly. “I’d be happy to discuss your proposal after the ICC meeting, but right now we’re—”

“Because  _ somebody _ here,” Tooru raises his voice, ignoring trivial things like “propriety” and “not making a scene in front of everyone,” stands up and jabs a finger in the direction of anime club President Wakatoshi Ushijima, “Claims to have reserved the auditorium for a screening of  _ Tatami Galaxy,  _ for the exact time slot the Earth Day event reserved the auditorium for.”

“Sit down, Shittykawa,” Hajime hisses, tugging Tooru’s sleeve. Tooru doesn’t budge.

Kaname’s smile continues to waver. “As I’ve told your organization already, the anime club had prior claim on the auditorium for that time period, but you’re welcome to reserve it for before or after their screening—”

“We followed established procedure,” Wakatoshi interrupts in his loud, deep monotone. “And we submitted our form first. You could easily reschedule your Earth Day thing for earlier or later in the day.”

“But the thing is, Ushiwaka,” Oikawa says, stalking over to where Wakatoshi’s sitting next to Satori Tendou. He leans in close to Wakatoshi, so close their noses are almost touching. Wakatoshi doesn’t flinch, just stares back at Oikawa, impassive as a wall. “ _ The thing is _ , we can’t reschedule! Because unlike your event, which is a screening of some old-as-balls cartoon anyone can pirate at home whenever they want, our event is a Q+A and discussion with renowned climate scientist and alumnus of our university, Karen MacCulloch. And Doctor MacCulloch is on an extremely tight and busy schedule, and cannot possibly speak earlier or later than what we’d agreed upon  _ months  _ ago!”

Wakatoshi Ushijima is silent for one second, two, three. Finally, he says, in a perfectly calm and even tone of voice, “You should’ve submitted the form earlier.”

Tooru starts yelling, Satori starts yelling in defense of Wakatoshi, who does Not yell no matter how much it seems like he really should yell about something, Suguru Daishou from the Consulting Club decides this is the perfect time to bring up some expenses the StuCo forgot to reimburse him for last year, Koutarou Bokuto from Student Radio starts yelling about why is everyone yelling right now, and Kaname looks like he’s on the verge of tears. Student council vice president Kenji Futakuchi takes a break from attempting to transcribe the meeting's minutes to pat Kaname on the back reassuringly and yell at everyone to calm the fuck down or get the fuck out. Which prompts more indignant yelling from everyone, because obviously none of them did anything wrong ever in their life.

A few minutes later, Hajime grabs Tooru by the shoulders and pushes him out the door, apologizing as he does so. Satori pushes Wakatoshi out a moment later, saying something about “haters throwing off Wakatoshi’s groove.”

After that Kaname buries his face in his arms while Kenji asks if anyone has any other questions for the ICC to discuss. The room is awkwardly silent.

Keiji Akaashi sweeps the leftover cookies into a napkin for later.

***

Morisuke Yaku pulls the printouts of the latest poetry submission out of a folder and drops the stack on the table in the Langue de Chat office. The magazine staff grab the copies and examine them critically.

Tetsurou clears his throat. “First reading, anyone? Tora?”

Taketora Yamamoto picks up his sheet and gestures with one arm as he reads the poem out loud. It’s magazine tradition to read each submitted poem out loud, twice, before critiquing. “You were a gun, and I... was but one of the bullets you fired.”

There’s an expectant pause, then one of their freshmen claps tentatively. Tetsurou looks up and down his copy of the poem. “Huh. That’s really it? Okay. Second reading? Oh, Akane! Welcome to the magazine!”

Akane Yamamoto glares competitively at her older brother and declares, in a considerably louder voice, “YOU… were a gun, and I was but ONE of the bullets you fired!”

Akane gets slightly more clapping than Tora did, which she seems very smug about. “Good job. Great reading for your first try, Akane. Okay. Thoughts?”

Another pause. And then Lev says, bluntly honest as a hammer to a face, “It sounded a lot like Rupi Kaur’s stuff? Or like……. Minimalist Instagram poetry. You know. That kind of stuff.”

Morisuke groans. “You can’t just  _ say _ it like that, Lev, that’s rude. You have to like, critique it.”

“Yeah,” Tetsurou chimes in. “There’s a good chance the writer is—” he looks around dramatically, “—in this very room right now!” Although if Tetsurou's being honest, he's pretty sure the magazine staff writes better poems than that.

“Oh,” says Lev. “Okay. So my critique is, this sounds overdone. And reminds me of Rupi Kaur and minimalist Instagram poetry."

"You're just saying the exact same thing again," Kai tells him gently.

"I kind of agree, though," graduate poetry student Alisa says. "The 'I was X but you were Y' kind of format is very much Kaur's brand, even though she stole a lot of her style from Nayyirah Waheed. I'm sure that's where the writer got the idea from."

Tora nods fervently. "The imagery is hardcore and all but like, what does it mean? 'I was a bullet' — like, what? How can that metaphor be expanded?"

“This sucks,” Kenma says quietly. Everyone turns to look at him. “What? Like Tora and Alisa just said, it’s overdone and the imagery’s unclear.”

There is an awkward silence.

“Right,” Tetsurou sighs. “Any other opinions?”

The awkward silence continues. Lev looks like he wants to add something else, but Yaku glares at him.

The club votes whether or not the poem should go in the next issue of the magazine. It’s a resounding no. Tetsurou scrawls a bright red X across the master copy of the submission and returns it to the folder.

After they vote on the other submitted pieces for the next issue of Langue du Chat, Tetsurou spends the last twenty minutes of the meeting assigning projects for the club members to work on for the next issue. In short, a beginning-of-the-semester club meeting like any other. Tetsurou has assignments and chem labs and unanswered emails waiting for his attention, but for that one hour a week, he focuses on the magazine and only the magazine. It’s a nice distraction.

Tetsurou pushes open the door of the magazine’s office at the back of the Arts and Humanities Library (which they share with the student newspaper, but still, it says Langue du Chat on the door under the newspaper sign so it counts) and shoos everyone else through the door before him. “Good work today, see you next week, Tora please make sure Kenma eats lunch after this because I have a meeting with my advisor.”

“You got it, chief.” Tora salutes. Kenma glowers, like his mother didn’t specifically tell Tetsurou to make sure her kid eats three meals a day at college. Tetsurou sticks his tongue out at him and hurries off, immediately bumping into Daichi Sawamura.

Daichi Sawamura, it turns out, is exactly as solid as he appears. He’s also at least ten centimeters shorter than Tetsurou, which means the top of his head bumps Tetsurou’s nose as he walks right smack into him.

“Shit, sorry,” they both say as they jump apart at the exact same time, and laugh. Sawamura’s wearing a faded sweatshirt Tetsurou remembers getting at freshman orientation and carrying a reusable travel cup covered in free stickers from different dance and college events. He looks more well-rested than he did at the club fair, but that’s a very low bar. Most corpses look more well-rested than club presidents at club fair. Although seeing Sawamura lick a cherry popsicle at said club fair was...

Anyway, Sawamura smiles up at Tetsurou in that reassuring-older-brother way of his and Tetsurou’s throat goes dry. He coughs and says, “Sup, Sawamura,” running a hand through his hair.

“Hey,” Sawamura answers. “Did you just have a lit mag meeting?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. The office is back there.” Tetsurou jabs a finger at the hallway he came from.

"Maybe I'll drop by next week. I'm usually studying around this time, but I could take a break and read some poems with you guys."

"Sounds great!" Tetsurou blurts out way too quickly. God, he's always such a mess around his crushes. "Maybe I'll come by a dance practice someday too. We have to figure out our collaboration thing, don't we?"

"You were serious about that?"

Tetsurou puts a hand over his heart. "I am always incredibly serious about collaborations." Sure, it might've started as a clever ploy to finally get Sawamura's number after three years of hopeless crushing, but it really does seem like a fun thing to do. The magazine's always gotten along well with the dance team kids. Kenma and Hinata play video games together, Suga and Mori are in the same major. And who doesn't want to do something fun with their friends?

"Are you busy right now?" Tetsurou asks. "Wanna go grab a coffee or something and chat about it?"

Sawamura unlocks his phone with a frown, scrolling through calendar reminders. "I have a meeting scheduled with my advisor in like twenty minutes, sorry."

"Oh crap." Tetsurou checks the time on his own phone, then shoves the phone back in his pocket. "I'm late for a meeting with  _ my _ advisor! Thanks for the reminder, Sawamura! I'll message you for a better time!"

"This afternoon work?"

Tetsurou skids to a stop at the end of the hallway. Looks at his calendar app. "Let's say... two p.m.?"

Sawamura gives him a thumbs up. "The cafe across from the engineering building?"

"Sounds like a plan!" 

Tetsurou sprints to his meeting, feeling more excited about getting coffee than he's ever felt in his life.

***

Kaname’s lecture class ends, he slides his notebooks into his backpack, and then proceeds to drop the backpack when a distressingly familiar voice calls his name from behind him.

“Tooru,” Kaname says, picking his backpack up instead of crawling under the desk with it like he kind of wants to. “I didn’t know you had class here today.” 

“I don’t,” Tooru Oikawa replies, beaming. “Just thought I’d drop by and say hi to my good pal Kaname, and give you some of these.” He passes Kaname a box of limited edition peach Pocky sticks, the kind they’d sold out of at the local H-mart last weekend.

Kaname stares at it. “Tooru... are you trying to bribe me?” He starts making his way to the exit at the back of the lecture space, Tooru keeping up with him as he does so.

Tooru gasps. “I would never! I just wanted to check in with my good pal Kaname, like I said!” 

“A-alright then,” Kaname tries to smile, but he just feels stressed about all this. Maybe he should’ve let Kenji take over as student council president this year. Kenji would probably be more effective at handling people like Tooru Oikawa. “How are you today, Tooru?”

Tooru smiles like a shark, insincerely and dangerously. “I’m great. Just great. But you know what would make my day even better? Getting the auditorium locked down for April 22nd, 7 to 9 p.m.”

Kaname sighs and repeats to himself: be professional, be professional, be professional. “Look, the anime club reserved the auditorium first, and they’re not budging, you’ve talked to them. You could hold your speaking event outside on the quad, or reserve a smaller room?”

“The facebook event for this panel has over 100 people marked as attending,” Tooru snaps back, whipping out his phone. Evidently he’d come prepared for this. “The anime club’s screening has... 17 people marked as attending. They’re not going to need a space as large as the auditorium. On the other hand,  _ we _ can’t make do with a smaller space because we’re expecting a big crowd. And holding this outdoors would be conditional on the weather and availability of specialized equipment.”

Kaname blinks at the phone screen. “Maybe the anime club doesn’t market themselves on Facebook as aggressively? And at any rate, they’ll need a room with a projector, and there’s a limited amount of those on campus.” At Tooru’s expression, he rubs the back of his neck. “Most of the time the anime club meets somewhere else, but this time Satori told me it was some anniversary of the thing they’re showing, so they want to show it on a big screen for that reason. I don’t think they’re just out to get you, Tooru.” At least, they weren’t at first. Wakatoshi is stubborn and Satori will do anything if he thinks it’s funny, and annoying Tooru is definitely funny to him.

Tooru sighs loudly. He leans across the doorway in a way that seems casual, but prevents Kaname from stepping past him and escaping the lecture hall. “Could you please talk to them about switching to a smaller room?”

The part of Kaname chanting "be professional" on a loop is almost outweighed by the part of him chanting "talk to them your own damn self," but he holds it together enough to say, "I'm not taking sides in this. I strongly suggest your club officers meet with the anime club officers and have a polite, civil conversation about your issues without me."

Tooru's expression turns thoughtful for a second. Calculating. "I see. Well, that's very fair of you, Kaname." He peels himself off the doorframe and steps out. "See you around!"

Kaname watches him leave and decides to message the StuCo leadership board Slack channel, just in case. 

_ Moniwa_President: if anyone from the environmental club or the anime club tries to talk to you before April 22nd, _

_ Futakuchi_Vice: stab them? _

_ Nametsu_Secretary: do not stab! _

_ [One knife reaction to message] _

_ Moniwa_President: I HIT ENTER TOO EARLY SORRY _

_ Moniwa_President: I was GOING to say, _

_ Moniwa_President: tell them to work it out between themselves, we're not favoring either group, and once they've agreed on who gets the space they need to let me know _

_ Moniwa_President: but until they figure it out StuCo is staying out of it. _

_ Futakuchi_Vice: oooh what if Tooru Oikawa comes up to you and says anime club gave up the space and you should go ahead and fill out the paperwork for envi but he's LYING and it's a TRICK _

_ Nametsu_Secretary: I'd say that sounds unlikely but I've met him so fair point _

_ Moniwa_President: Unless a representative of the anime club tells me in person they're letting envi have the space, envi's not getting the space. _

_ [Three thumbs up reactions to message] _

_ Aone_Treasurer: :thumbsup: _

_ [Three thumbs up reactions to message] _

_ Nametsu_Secretary: very well said, Kaname! _

_ Futakuchi_Vice: we should tell them to change their name to envi it sounds cute _

***

The cafe across from the engineering building is a birdfeeder for Instagram influencer types, and everything about it, from the decor to the desserts, is excessively photogenic and designed for square-cropped iPhone camera pics. The drinks are delicious anyway, though, and the prices are still accessible to the local college student clientele.

Tetsurou and Daichi sit next to a wall growing succulents and grass, Tetsurou moving his chair to avoid getting hit in the head by a low-hanging oversized lightbulb.

“So,” Tetsurou says, taking a long sip of blue lychee iced tea through a straw. 

“So,” Daichi repeats. He stirs his earl grey milk tea.

Tetsurou pulls out a notebook (black with a graphic red spaceship design on it) and writes the word “COLLABORATION” at the top of the page in big, swooping letters. 

“Ideas?” Tetsurou pushes the notebook towards Daichi.

“Uh...” Daichi stares at the intimidatingly blank sheet. “Well, we should decide what we want to do together first, I think? Like, joint fundraiser, event, combined meeting? What’s the scope of this... collaboration?”

Tetsurou nods and scribbles down the options along with pros and cons for each one. “I like the idea of an event. I’m just not sure...”

“...How we could do it,” Daichi finishes. “What about like, a talent show thing? You guys could read your poems or whatever, while the dance team kids could show off their routines.”

“That could be cool. Good thoughts, Sawamura.” Tetsurou writes down “talent show??” next to “event” in his notebook. “What about something more interactive?”

Tetsurou’s handwriting is very neat, Daichi notices. “Like a workshop? Or... games?”

“Like festival games but with... writing and dancing?” Tetsurou stops writing, taps his Muji pen against the edge of the notebook. “A non-informative club fair type thing.”

“Just set up on the quad somewhere and hand out leftover club fair goodies,” Daichi says. “We could probably ask other clubs if they want in on it.”

“Sounds like something that would require, like, paperwork and working stuff out with administration and StuCo, though,” Tetsurou adds, making a note.

“Hm, yeah... the easiest thing to do would probably be like a combined club meeting sort of thing, but that won’t be as interesting...”

They discuss their ideas some more, until Tetsurou declares that they've accomplished enough for today and jumps up. “I’ll be right back.”

He returns carrying two plates of cake. Different cakes: a matcha mille crepe and something with red berries and cream. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I took a guess. We can trade if you want,” Tetsurou says, setting the berry cake in front of Daichi. 

Daichi tries the cake, taking a cautious bite of cherries and syrup. His eyes widen. "Oh, wow. That's really good. I didn't know this place had such good cakes, I don't usually order food here. How much was it?"

Tetsurou waves him off. "It's on me, Sawamura. You can get the next one."

"You can call me Daichi," Daichi blurts out. He's not sure where the impulse came from, but it's just... strange for Tetsurou to keep calling him Sawamura all of a sudden. "Most people call me that. And it's shorter."

Tetsurou pauses, mille crepe halfway up to his mouth. "Well. Uh. Okay, then. Sorry, I default to last names for people. Not sure why, I’ve lived here since I was two. Haven’t been back to Japan in years either.” The tips of his ears are turning red. He takes a large bite of cake to keep himself from saying anything else. 

"My family’s from all over. Military brat," Daichi explains, gesturing to himself. 

Tetsurou smiles back for a second, ducking his head down. “Sorry, that’s kind of personal for a first potential-extracurricular-collaboration conversation, huh?” 

Daichi scoffs. “It’s weirder that we haven’t had this conversation yet, honestly. Pretty sure Suga got my entire life story out of me at orientation.” 

Tetsurou shrugs. “So how’d you get into the dance thing anyway?” Tetsurou asks him.

Daichi rubs the back of his neck, feeling warm from the attention. “This is kind of embarrassing, but... I wanted to be a K-Pop star in middle school. So I got my parents to sign me up for dance classes. Turns out I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, but dancing was really fun, so I kept doing it. Luckily we didn’t move again until I finished high school, so I got to keep taking classes at the same place.”

“That’s awesome, though.” Tetsurou’s watching him earnestly, and Daichi’s kind of glad one of his eyes is hidden by his hair because the full force of that stare would probably be a lot. “That you’ve stuck with something for so long.”

“What about you, though? A Chemistry and Writing double major? And you still have time to run the lit mag?”

“Ah...” It’s Tetsurou’s turn to seem embarrassed. “I just like a lot of things. I’m hoping to become a science journalist or something like that, where I get to combine my knowledge of obscure facts with my fondness for writing things.”

“Or I could become one of those super specialized mystery novelists and write a series about a detective who’s also a chemist,” he adds after a moment’s pause. “The possibilities are endless.”

Daichi’s startled into laughing, and Tetsurou looks disgustingly pleased with himself. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“I might have a document somewhere with story ideas,” Tetsurou admits. “It’s no good to finish college without a plan!”

“Ha ha,” Daichi says sheepishly. He still hasn’t started looking for a post-graduation job. Or grad school applications, if that’s what he decides to go with. The school year’s just started, there’s plenty of time for that sort of thing. Probably.

Tetsurou seems to notice it in his face though, and reaches across the table to pat him on the shoulder a few times. “You’ll be fine, Sawamura.”

“Daichi,” Daichi corrects him. 

“...Daichi,” Tetsurou says, hesitating only a second.

It’s strange, to hear his first name in Tetsurou’s voice, sounding fond and far more familiar than it should already. It makes Daichi’s stomach swoop, like he’s reached the top of a rollercoaster or something. But not unpleasant, Daichi thinks, concentrating on his cake.

The cake really is very good.

***

[Facebook Messenger]

_ Kenji Futakuchi: has the environmental club considered rebranding _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: ... Why? _

_ Kenji Futakuchi: cool ok consider this: ENVI _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: what _

_ Kenji Futakuchi: like just call the club ENVI instead of Environmental Club _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: why _

_ Kenji Futakuchi: it sounds cooler _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: I'm blocking you. _

_ Kenji Futakuchi: you can't you need my notes from yesterday still _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: ...fuck _

_ Kenji Futakuchi: lmaoooo  _

_ Kenji Futakuchi: press f to pay respects to the remains of shige's dignity _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: You're the worst. Can I meet you in the science building in half an hour? _

_ Kenji Futakuchi: sounds like a plan :3c  _

"Kaname said nobody in the environmental or anime club is allowed to bother StuCo about the auditorium thing," Kenji informs Shigeru when Shigeru finds him in their usual study room on the first floor. Shigeru is wearing a flu mask and a deeply irritated expression.

"Do I look like I care?" Shigeru huffs. He pulls his notebooks out of his backpack, neatly laying them out on the table and taking a photo of the set-up for his studyblr. "Hajime emailed the speaker person and asked her to reschedule for earlier in the day. If she says yes then that's it and we can all stop fighting and maybe Shirabu will stop sending me random JoJo screenshots during lecture when he  _ knows _ I haven’t watched the new series yet.”

“He sends me those too, you’re not special,” Kenji interjects, and then laughs when Shigeru makes a face at him.

“”Tooru just has a weird grudge against the anime club seniors, I'm pretty sure." Yahaba scowls. "He never tells anyone what he's actually thinking, except maybe Hajime sometimes."

Kenji shrugs. "Still can't help with that, dude, sorry."

Shigeru sighs and stretches his arms over his head. "It's whatever. Do you have the notes or not?"

Kenji slides over a battered graph paper notebook with a torn cover and sticky notes marking the relevant sections. Shigeru wrinkles his nose at the state of the notebook, but opens it anyway. "Have you considered, like, trying to be neat with your stuff?" He flips a crumpled page.

"Nope, never occurred to me ever. Do you need me to explain anything from the lecture?"

Shigeru squints at the notes again. "What... Language is this? Is it Greek? I don’t remember signing up for Greek, I barely even remember Japanese at this point in my life..."

Kenji leans over to examine the passage in question. "Oh, those are just formulas. Welcome to physics! It’s garbage and I hate it, but at least we’re stuck in it together, right?"

"Uuuuuughhhhh." Shigeru props his head up in his hands, smiling a bit in spite of himself. "Fine, explain. I still feel kind of sick."

Kenji's voice is excessively smug as he says, "I'll help you out, but only if you keep me updated on the dumb shit Oikawa's up to. I need to know the drama."

"Sure, okay." Shigeru gives him a weak thumbs up. "It's a deal."

***

It takes three days of group chat discussion and Google Calendar crossreferencing, but finally all the officers of both the literary magazine and the dance crew are in the same place, at the same time, to semi-officially discuss The Collaboration, as Tetsurou keeps referring to it. 

They decide to meet in a study room on the second floor of the student center, as a location that is convenient for most of them and at the same time neutral territory. Daichi and Tetsurou show up first, as club presidents should, and sit down across from each other. Suga and Morisuke walk in together, carrying travel cups of coffee from the cafe on the first floor and discussing a test coming up in one of their cognitive science classes. The rest of the gang, Nobuyuki and Kiyoko and Chikara and Taketora Yamamoto, trickle in more or less at the agreed-upon time. Nobuyuki brings a box of donuts with him, even though nobody asked for it. 

“You are my new favorite person,” Suga tells him solemnly, grabbing three donuts at once.

“This collaboration is off to a good start,” Chikara agrees, taking a single donut.

“Daichi, why don’t you bring donuts to our meetings?” Suga demands with his mouth full. Mori laughs, Tetsurou and Nobu exchange a relieved look.

Daichi squints at him. “Because we’re a dance crew, Suga. Which reminds me of my main issue with this whole idea: how can we combine our two very different club concepts into a single event?”

Everyone turns to look at Tetsurou, who came up with this whole idea in the first place. Tetsurou shrinks in his seat a little bit, and his unnecessarily long legs bump Daichi’s under the table. Daichi bumps back, hoping Tetsurou finds it reassuring or steadying or... something. “Well, Daichi and I talked about this a little bit already, actually, and here’s what we came up with...”

Suga’s eyebrows shoot up as Tetsurou keeps talking, and he pokes Daichi in the arm and mouths “First names? Really?” at him. Suga makes a big deal out of the weirdest things, Daichi thinks. Tetsurou’s gotten him to go out to “discuss the upcoming collaboration” a few more times, but it always turns into talking about random unrelated stuff after a while. Sometimes Tetsurou sends him photos of cats. It’s really not a big deal.

They discuss The Collaboration some more. Shimizu points out it makes sense to do something smaller-scale like a combined club meeting first and then if it goes well consider a larger event, and Tora backs her up with a starry-eyed look on his face. 

“Before we try doing anything together, though,” Suga chimes in, “what if your guys come to our workshop this weekend? We’ll be teaching a fairly simple dance so prospective new members can get a feel for how we work. Actual tryouts to be part of our core lineup will be next month, but the workshop’s open to everyone.”

The lit mag contigent confers quietly for a minute. They’re clustered together on one side of the table with Tetsurou at the center, and he looks so much more serious than when he and Daichi are hanging out together. Which is a thing that happens now, whatever. “When and where?” Yaku asks eventually.

Once the donuts are consumed and the meeting complete, Suga corners Daichi on his way out of the meeting room, waiting for everyone else to head out before slamming the door shut and yelling. “Daichi! What! Is going on between you and Tetsurou Kuroo!”

“...We’re friends? Isn’t that what you wanted when you forced us to exchange numbers at the club fair? Also why are we doing this here, I think someone reserved this room after us.”

Suga rolls his eyes and pushes the door open with his elbow, dragging Daichi out of the study room and lowering his volume slightly. “I was trying to set you up, you dumbass! I was pretty sure you both liked each other, so when Tetsurou came up with this dumb collab idea I assumed it was an excuse to hang out with you so I helped. But you! You haven’t told me  _ anything  _ about what happened after that! Except for the stuff you talked about at the meeting, I guess, which doesn’t count. I’m your best friend! Tell me stuff!” 

Daichi blinks. “What? Nothing’s happened. We’ve gotten food together a few times. Sometimes we text. But it’s not. Like, a thing.” They keep walking out of the student center, Suga power-walking so Daichi has to run a little to keep up with him. A subtle revenge for being kept in the dark, maybe.

Suga pinches the bridge of his nose, like Daichi is being unnecessarily difficult. “You two were flirting with each other this whole meeting!”

“We weren’t  _ flirting, _ ” Daichi replies. Light physical contact is totally normal between friends, right? Even if your friend is very attractive. 

Suga gives him a deeply unimpressed look. “I’m sorry, do you think tapping your shoulder to get your attention ten times in half an hour is a normal friendship thing? Even I don’t do that to my friends.”

“Tetsu’s kind of weird about personal boundaries, and you sucker-punch people as a greeting so nothing you do should be considered normal.”

“Fair point, fair point.” Suga stops abruptly in the middle of the crosswalk. “You do like him, though?”

Daichi considers it. The fact that he can’t immediately say no is enough for Suga, who sighs in a fondly exasperated kind of way. “You’ve always been kind of dense about these things, haven’t you.”

“Shut up.”

***

The Earth Day thing was the environmental club’s biggest event during the school year, and they tried their best to pull out all the stops for it every time, spending most of their school-allotted budget, fundraising money and sponsorships on both educational and fun activities for an entire day. They planted a whole new garden of native plants last year! It was awesome!

Which means this year, Tooru (and his club) have to do better than that. And since single-handedly repairing the hole in the ozone layer’s not a feasible option right now, getting a climate scientist alum to come talk to them is the next-best thing.

Until the fucking  _ anime club _ decided to ruin it.

“So, glasses or no glasses?” Tooru demands, standing in front of his tiny student apartment closet and rifling through a pile of sweaters.

“Glasses,” Makki says from the bed, at the same time as Mattsun declares “No glasses” in an identically decisive tone of voice. They high-five.

“Why does it matter?” Hajime asks from Tooru’s bedroom floor, where he’s lying on his stomach working on programming homework. 

“Hajime.” Tooru sighs dramatically, taking a navy blue sweater off a rack and examining it from all angles. “We’re meeting with the officers of the Anime Club at the student center to see if we can work something out regarding the auditorium, right? So if I wear my glasses, I’ll look more studious and serious, but also nerdy, or maybe like I’m not trying hard enough with regards to my appearance. While if I wear contacts, I’ll look cute and put together! But also—”

“— like a himbo,” Makki finishes.

Tooru throws the sweater at his face. It falls tragically short and lands in a pile next to the bed.

“Tooru can’t be a himbo, he’s not beefy enough,” Mattsun says, shaking his head. “I hate to say this, but Ushiwaka’s more of a himbo than you are, Tooru.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment to my superior intelligence,” Tooru says loftily, picking the sweater up from the floor and pulling it on himself. He spin around for the peanut gallery’s approval. Makki and Mattsun each give him a thumbs-up, Hajime continues to work on his homework until Tooru kicks him. 

Hajime sighs, saves his assignment, and slams his laptop shut, propping himself up on his elbows to face Oikawa. “If you’re so much more intelligent than Ushiwaka, why are you the one agonizing over whether or not you should wear glasses to the meeting tomorrow?”

“The glasses— or lack thereof — are part of our  _ strategy! _ And all’s fair in love and war.”

“This is a war? Over an auditorium?”

Tooru kicks him again, but this time Hajime’s expecting it and catches his foot with both hands, causing Tooru to lose his balance and topple over. “You’re so mean to me,” he whines, from the floor. Hajime releases him, having decided that was punishment enough. Tooru resumes his wardrobe rummaging, pulling out two more sweaters for consideration.

Makki taps his chin thoughtfully. “You know what that phrase reminds me of, Tooru? The fact that there’s a fine line between love and hate. And if we extrapolate from the constructed syllogism, we get—”

“Tooru wants to fuck Ushiwaka,” Mattsun says, deadpan. Tooru, in the middle of taking the navy sweater off, screams with his arms stuck halfway up the sleeves.

“Mattsun! How vulgar.” Makki sits up again. “I was going to say, Tooru is secretly, perhaps unknowingly  _ in love _ with Ushiwaka, and this whole auditorium thing is his attempt at seduction.” This time, Makki dodges the sweater Tooru hurls in his direction with full force.

“Why would he bother trying to seduce Ushijima like this when he has a whole fanclub of girls hanging on to his every word?” Mattsun wonders. “You’d think he’d have developed a more efficient method by now. I can make an auction post for you on Subtle Asian Dating if you’re really struggling, dude, just say the word.”

“You’re both fired. Go tell Shigeru and Shinji they’re taking over as Secretary and Treasurer, I’m kicking you out of Environmental Club.” 

Makki and Mattsun are laughing too hard to respond, and Hajime joins in, finally pushing his laptop to the far corner of the room. “You can’t fire them, this is a democracy, and also not a real job.”

“Promotion in the Environmental Club happens by the will of the people!” Makki shouts, high-fiving Hajime.

Tooru gives up on his outfit for the time being and slams the closet door shut. “You’re all just jealous of my natural charm and good looks, and I pity your small, weak minds.”

He heads into the kitchen, shouting “I’m going to get a drink, anyone else want anything?”

The rest of the evening proceeds the way their hangouts usually go, with halfhearted attempts at homework and studying punctuated with drinks and snacks and gossiping. It’s not until later, when Mattsun is double-checking the shuttle schedule for the night, that Tooru asks, “You weren’t seriously implying anything about me and Ushiwaka, were you?”

Mattsun looks at him like he’s crazy, which he might be, after so many weeks of stressing about this stupid Earth Day event. “Nah, dude. We were just messing around like we always are. Although, if it bothers you, maybe there was a grain of truth to it after all?”

Tooru shakes his head hard. “Nope! Just wondering!”

“Maybe he’s going to change tacks and actually try to seduce Ushiwaka at the meeting tomorrow. Get them to switch their screening time with his...” Hajime looks Tooru up and down, eyebrows raised skeptically. “I feel like I’ve known you for too long to be aware of your surface-level charm points anymore.”

“Get out of my apartment.” Tooru laughs, shoving his friends out the door.

He has more important things to worry about than what some anime nerds are going to think about his appearance tomorrow, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moniwa's responsibilities at a real school would probably be done by an administrator and not a student but it's just funnier this way  
also the lit mag meeting is inspired by my own high school lit mag. tragically my college did not have this type of lit mag but yeah we had a legendarily bad poem submitted to us once called The Gun so that's why it's that  
talk to me on [tumblr](http://cubistemoji.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/mozaikmage/)  



	2. Chapter 2

“Five, six, seven eight!” Daichi shouts. “Okay, let’s try it with music this time!” 

Kiyoko stands in the back of the room generously keeping time for the boy’s practice while the group goes through the fairly short and simple choreography the seniors had developed over summer vacation. Daichi, Suga and Asahi stay in the back too, so they can watch how their newer members dance. It’s still early in the semester, and they haven’t held proper tryouts yet, but after several months of not working together the core members of the Flying Crows need to relearn how to dance with a group. It’s a practice dance, basically, and if they can all nail it by the end of the two hour session then they’ll use a simpler version of it for the workshop this weekend.

Except they’re not nailing it and Daichi kind of wants to set something on fire.

It’s probably just a bad week, Daichi tries to think. It’s their third practice of the year, and last week was definitely better. But this week, Shouyou’s hyperactively bouncing all over the place, rushing his movements and falling out of time, Tobio can’t stop snapping at him to be more precise with his movements, and even Chikara’s movements are stiff and distracted. Chikara probably didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before, knowing him, but Shouyou and Tobio reverting back to their freshman selves is worrying. 

Shouyou accidentally steps on Noya’s foot, Kei steps back to avoid him and bumps into Hisashi, who stumbles and falls into Chikara, and Kiyoko cuts the music and says “Stop” before it manages to turn into a complete pile-on. 

Daichi sighs, walking around to the front of the room.

“I’m sorry!” Shouyou blurts out. “I know I’m messing up a lot today. I’ll do better next week!”

“Well, as long as you’re aware,” Daichi begins, but he’s interrupted by Tobio.

“How hard is it to move to the beat!” Tobio yells, grabbing Shouyou and shaking him to the one-two-three-four time of this dance.

“Do I have to send you two into the hall again like last year?” 

They jump apart from each other like they’d been burned. “No!”

Daichi sighs again. “Just. Take ten, everyone. You two, go get a Gatorade or something from the vending machine on the first floor, get some of that energy out.”

The group splits up for the break, and someone knocks on the door of the studio space.

Daichi opens it and finds himself face-to-face with Tetsurou Kuroo.

“Oh, hi,” he says intelligently. “The uh, the workshop thing isn’t until this weekend, this is just regular practice for our returning team members.”

“I know,” Tetsurou says, smiling. He looks nice when he smiles, Daichi thinks, less sinisterly edgy and more alt-rock band edgy. Maybe Suga is onto something. “I just wanted to bring you this.” 

He hands Daichi a bottle of red Gatorade. “I uh, remembered you like red-flavored things, and I happened to be passing a vending machine, and uh, well, here.” Tetsurou turns his head to the side. The tips of his ears are pink.

Suga is definitely onto something. Daichi’s suddenly glad Suga went to the bathroom during this break, because if he saw this go down Daichi would never hear the end of it. 

Daichi takes the Gatorade. “Well, thank you very much.” This makes Tetsurou blush harder.

“Just ask him out already,” Noya yells from the corner of the room. Which is when Daichi remembers they’re standing in the doorway of the campus dance studio, in front of most of Daichi’s dance crew. All of whom are watching the proceedings with interest. That’s not embarrassing at all.

Daichi shoots his best Scary Captain face at Noya, who is unfortunately immune to it now after two years, and motions for Tetsurou to follow him out into the hallway. The ten minute break is almost up, but whatever.

“So,” Daichi says, when they’re finally alone. “Was this whole collaboration thing just to—” 

“No!” Tetsurou blurts out. “I mean! Kind of. I do really think we should collaborate! Because so many of our club members are friends with each other, and it’d be interesting to learn different ways to express our creativity, and it could get us some great PR, and... it would be really fun! But uh, I do really like you, but the collab idea was mostly because I thought it’d be fun to do, I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a date, but if you’re not interested then that’s totally fine and—”

Daichi puts his hand over Tetsurou’s mouth, cutting off the babbling. “Calm down.”

Tetsurou makes a distressed sound, but stays still. Waiting.

“I like you too,” Daichi says finally. Tetsurou sags in relief, and he pushes his disaster of a hairstyle away from his face to show Daichi this bright smile Daichi doesn’t think he’s ever seen before and it. It’s nice, to know Daichi can make him smile like that. 

And now they’re both just standing there and blushing like losers. Incredible. 

“So,” Tetsurou says, “date? I mean. Would you like to go on one. Because that’s how sentences work, a thing I definitely know, because I am a writer.” He covers his face with his hands. “This is so far from how I expected this whole thing to go today, oh my God.”

“Yes,” Daichi says, and Tetsurou looks up at him, like he’s surprised at that answer. “Let’s go on a date. You seem like an arthouse movie kind of guy, want to check out whatever the Garden Theater’s showing this weekend and get dinner after?”

Tetsurou stares at him. “...I’ll have to double-check my schedule, I tutor on the weekends sometimes,” he mumbles, pulling out his phone and opening his calendar app on autopilot.

“I do too,” Daichi says. “We’ll figure it out, though.”

“Yeah.” Tetsurou’s smiling again, and there’s something certain in his voice that wasn’t there earlier in the conversation. “Yeah we will.”

***

_ Hajime Iwaizumi posted in the  _ ** _#General_ ** _ channel of the  _ ** _Environmental Club_ ** _ Slack board: still no word from MacCulloch about possibly changing the time. Tooru, are you sure you gave me the right email? _

_ Tooru Oikawa: I’m sure :) I saved it to my contacts after our initial correspondence :) and double-checked w/Prof Irihata too :) _

_ Hajime Iwaizumi: if you say so _

_ Hajime Iwaizumi: wait a sec why isn’t Irihata handling this he’s the one who had MacCulloch as a student in the first place isn’t he _

_ Hajime Iwaizumi: is this you trying to prove you can do literally everything by yourself for no actual reason, again _

_ Tooru Oikawa: ,,,,,,,,,,  _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: Tooru’s neuroses aside, what’s the game plan for tomorrow? _

_ Issei Matsukawa: lay out our arguments calmly and concisely, listen to what the otaku have to say, and then calmly and concisely tell them why we’re right and they’re wrong _

_ Issei Matsukawa: also I think Oikawa’s planning to seduce ushiwaka idk _

_ Tooru Oikawa: ignore the last message _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: :^) _

[Facebook Messenger]

_ Kenjirou Shirabu: Are you going to be at the thing today _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: Yup, filling in for Makki bc he has a test :/ you? _

_ Kenjirou Shirabu: unfortunately. It’s me, wakatoshi, reon, and satori _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: Fun fun fun! :’) _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: Why are all the fourth years so........ Like That _

_ Kenjirou Shirabu: you’re asking me _

_ Kenjirou Shirabu: let’s just get this over with _

_ Kenjirou Shirabu:and then see if the gc wants to go out tonight so I can forget this experience ever happened _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: It’s a tuesday and you have class tomorrow. So does the rest of the gc btw _

_ Kenjirou Shirabu: what does that have to do with anything _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: lol ok see you at The Thing then _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: let’s hope we do not need to drink ourselves into oblivion after this :’) _

They end up meeting in one of the study rooms of the Arts and Humanities Library, as the biggest and most centrally-located library on campus. Most of the club officers are STEM majors, but the Engineering library was deemed too dark and depressing (and all the study rooms were reserved for the afternoon already, so.) 

Mattsun suggests they snap rhythmically as they approach the pre-determined table, like the gangs in that one old movie he saw one time. Tooru and Hajime shut that down instantly. 

Tooru had told the environmental club’s officers to be there a full twenty minutes early so they’d “have the upper hand in the negotiations,” but when their group reaches the second floor of the library, Satori Tendou’s bright red hair can be seen from the doorway. He’s leaning back in a chair and trying to balance a box of candy on his nose. Wakatoshi Ushijima’s looking through a bookshelf nearby, Reon Oohira’s writing something in a notebook, and Kenjirou Shirabu is texting someone, typing furiously fast. Shigeru’s phone vibrates a moment later; the groupchat, he assumes.

“What was the point of setting the meeting for four o’clock if we were all going to get here early?” Shigeru grumbles, before making eye contact with Shirabu and giving his classmate a tiny wave.

“Psychological warfare,” Tooru mutters distractedly, before crossing the distance in several large steps and sitting down across from Reon Oohira, the most agreeable person in the anime club’s leadership board. 

“I guess we’re starting now, then?” Reon asks, closing his notebook. Shirabu stops texting and shoots Yahaba a look of commiseration.

Satori throws a crumpled-up ball of paper at Wakatoshi to get his attention. Wakatoshi looks over, nods in acknowledgement exactly once, and then takes a few books off of the shelf. Shigeru tilts his head to get a better look at the titles: three volumes of  _ Mushishi _ and one of  _ Lone Wolf and Cub. _ On brand for the president of Anime Club, he supposes.

“First of all, thank you for agreeing to meet with us today,” Tooru starts, smiling brightly. He adjusts the glasses on his nose. “I understand we’re all pretty busy people, and the fact that you were all willing to take some time out of your schedules to have this conversation means a lot.”

“Our pleasure,” Reon answers. Wakatoshi sits down next to him, arranging his books in a stack on the table.

Tooru presses his fingertips together and locks eyes with Wakatoshi, and for a second Shigeru wonders if he’s going to start a staring contest here. Because that’s entirely within the realm of possibility. 

“So, let’s review,” Tooru says instead. He starts counting the points off on his fingers. “We’re expecting at least a hundred people at our event. You’re expecting around twenty. We need a space that can hold that many people and is equipped for projecting a multimedia presentation.” Satori sits up in his chair and leans across Reon to carefully place his box of candy on top of Wakatoshi’s head, seemingly ignoring everything Tooru’s talking about.

Tooru’s eye twitches, but he continues his spiel. “Outside doesn’t work because it’s still too cold outside and there’s a high chance our event could get rained out, making the auditorium the only possible option for the environmental club. For the anime club screening, however, there are plenty of rooms on campus equipped with a projector that can hold up to thirty or forty participants. You have no reason to insist on the auditorium.” Satori freezes and turns his head sharply to face Tooru. Tooru smiles and turns his palms up in a conciliatory gesture. “Or, if you really want to host your event in the auditorium, you have no reason to insist on that specific timeslot. While we need that specific timeslot because that’s when our guest speaker is available.” 

“So,” Hajime cuts in, “we’re asking the anime club to move your screening to a different location and/or a different time, in order to accomodate our event, because it would be considerably easier for you to reschedule than for us to do the same.”

“Hang on,” Shirabu points out. “Isn’t your problem your own fault for booking a speaker before requesting the auditorium space? Why should we do anything for you? We submitted our paperwork on time, we should get the space. It’s only fair.”

Tooru’s expression freezes. “We submitted our form at the same time we submitted it the previous school year, because last year we didn’t have any other events conflicting with ours, and no reason to expect a conflict this year.”

“Like you haven’t been fighting with Ushiwaka over petty bullshit since freshman year,” Mattsun mutters quietly. Tooru elbows him. 

Satori leans across the table towards Mattsun and says in a stage whisper, “Right? They really need to get that tension out somehow, if you know what I mean.”

A vein throbs in Tooru’s temple.

“Sooooooo,” Satori drawls, “what’re you offering us in exchange for us moving our screening?”

“What would you like?” Tooru gets out, through gritted teeth. 

Satori tilts his chair back so far Shigeru’s sure he’s going to fall over, but he doesn’t. “I mean, I’d  _ like _ a million dollars and a life-size Gundam, but realistically... Wakatoshi, what do we want from the environmental club?”

Wakatoshi, who’d been silently observing the conversation this whole time, shrugs.

Shigeru ventures, “We have t-shirts? And environmentally friendly water bottles. Do you want some water bottles?” He pulls up an Excel sheet tracking their merch quantities on his phone. "You probably wouldn't want a Trees Hate Weebs sticker since Tooru had that made specifically to spite your club... but we’ve got some nice stickers of our logo?"

Shirabu valiantly tries to disguise his laugh as a cough. Which, okay, they’re friends, Shigeru gets it, but still, rude. Shigeru leans across the table to glare at the anime club’s secretary. “I’m sorry,  _ Kenjirou, _ do you have something against environmental activism? Do you personally detest water bottles?” Which just makes him laugh harder.

The seniors watch this with aloof expressions, like they’re all totally above such juvenile behavior and weren’t about to throw down over an auditorium like five seconds ago.

Just then, Daichi and Asahi from the dance crew walk by, poring over a piece of paper together and discussing something intently. Hajime waves, but Daichi doesn’t look up.

Satori gasps suddenly, and Shigeru can practically see the lightbulb go off over his head. “Wait, that’s perfect.”

“What’s perfect,” the rest of the anime club asks in wary unison. 

Satori ignores them and leans so far forward he’s practically lying down on top of the table, eyes gleaming in a horrible smirk. “Dance battle. Wait no,  _ arcade battle.  _ DDR, Pacman, shooting games, whatever else they’ve got. That place that’s half games and half bar on Riverside. Secretary against secretary, treasurer against treasurer, and so on until it’s Wakatoshi and Tooruru facing each other in a truly epic game of DDR. Winner gets the auditorium. Let’s go. Right now.”

“What the fuck, that’s insane,” Hajime says, at the same time as Tooru says “let’s fucking go I’m great at DDR.” They glare at each other.

Shigeru has little experience with arcade games, but he beat Shirabu at Smash Bros the last time their friend group played it at Chikara’s place, so if they have that at the arcade place then he’ll be fine. “I’m okay with this,” he volunteers. 

Hajime and Shirabu both look at him with identical expressions of surprised betrayal, which is hilarious. Shirabu’s not the best at one-on-one competitions. At freshman orientation, Shirabu and Kenji Futakuchi ended up arm-wrestling to see which of them would get to go by their very similar first names. Shirabu did not win.

Wakatoshi is frowning deeply. “How would winning at arcade games prove who should get the auditorium?”

Satori flicks him on the nose. “It doesn’t. But it’d be fun!”

Hajime is still looking hesitant. Tooru looks ready for war. 

“Come on,” Mattsun sighs, “we all know how to play video games here, right? And even if it doesn’t go well, there’ll be alcohol.”

Reon raises his hand. “Can we meet at the arcade at seven instead of doing this right now? I have a class in ten minutes.”

This prompts everyone to check their schedules again. They agree to reconvene at the arcade-bar by 7:30.

“Do we actually mean 7:30 this time or is everyone going to end up there by seven?” Shigeru clarifies, and they’re quick to assure him that no, they definitely mean 7:30.

“Can I invite other people?” Shirabu asks, scrolling through the group chat. “Chikara said yes to going out tonight, I could just tell him to meet us there.”

Satori waves his hand dismissively, like, I have no control over what you upstart youths get up to.

“Oh yeah, Makki should probably go instead of me, since he’s the actual secretary,” Shigeru realizes. 

Mattsun slaps him on the back. “Ya snooze, ya lose. If you don’t show up for the meeting, you don’t get to take down the anime club in an arcade game battle. But yeah, I’ll text him, don’t worry.”

After a few more minutes hammering out the details of this new competition, the anime club-environmental club negotiations are finally adjourned.

***

Suga had messaged the combined club officer groupchat saying he had extra meal swipes left over on his RA meal plan and did anyone want to get dinner at the student center now. So, he, Morisuke, Daichi, and Tetsurou, (the latter two holding hands and trying their best to not seem embarrassed about it), grab a booth in the corner of the cafe on the second floor, the one with really good burgers and fries and edible everything else. Suga and Yaku slide in on one side, dumping their backpacks on the end of the seat, and Daichi and Tetsurou sit across from them, still holding hands.

“Congrats on the dating,” Suga says, looking far smugger than he has any right to look. 

Daichi kicks him under the table. “It’s only been one date so far,” he grumbles.

Tetsurou feigns a gasp. “Are you implying there aren’t many more dates in our future, Daichi? Planning to break up with me already?”

“The opposite, actually.” Daichi shifts in his seat to face Tetsurou directly, probably in an attempt to fluster him. “I’m saying we need to go on more dates soon, so we can really describe it as ‘dating’ in a continuous sense. Is that the right word? I don’t remember anything about grammar.”

“Oh.” Tetsurou’s ears are red. “It. Yeah, I think that’s the right word. I’m gonna go get a soda, anyone want anything?” He practically sprints to the drink machine.

Suga giggles into his hand, while Morisuke just says, “Woooooooow.” 

Daichi looks off to the side in a show of false modesty. “The trick is to be really genuine and straightforward when he’s not expecting it,” he explains, stealing a fry off Suga’s plate.

Suga rolls his eyes.

The door to the cafe space bangs open with entirely unnecessary force, and Tooru Oikawa storms in. He lights up when he sees Suga and makes a beeline for their corner booth.

“Koushi! Suga! Wara!” 

Tetsurou returns from the drink machine and watches in silence as Tooru carefully places their backpacks on the floor under the table before sliding in next to Suga and draping himself across Suga’s lap. Suga and Mori both seem entirely unimpressed by this, having had more than a few classes and study groups with Tooru in the past few years. Daichi just raises his eyebrows incredulously.

“What’s wrong?” Suga sighs, stroking Tooru’s hair gently. Tooru Oikawa has famously nice hair — there’s even been a few memes about it in their college meme group — but Tetsurou recently learned he doesn’t actually do anything to make it look like that. He’s somewhat jealous.

“What ISN’T wrong!” 

Suga sighs again and pulls the plate of french fries closer to the edge of the table. “Is it the anime club thing still?”

“Yup.” Tooru grabs some fries off Suga’s plate and tries to drop them in his mouth without getting up, but Suga just yanks him into an upright position. Suga’s a lot stronger than he looks, but everyone else forgets that. Tooru yelps.

“Either sit like a normal person or get out,” he tells Tooru matter-of-factly, and Tetsurou instantly understands how this guy’s the vice-captain to Daichi’s entirely different, yet equally commanding energy.

Tooru ends up ordering a milkshake and explaining the recent auditorium-related developments in detail. “So yeah, we’re going to meet up at that arcade bar place on Riverside at 7:30, and I may or may not have staked the future of my club on a game of DDR.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Morisuke says, wrinkling his nose. “It’s not that major. Like, if y’all lose, so what? One failed event won’t actually be the end of the world.”

Tooru crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. “If Kaname had just let me bribe him with limited edition Pocky two weeks ago this would all have been solved already.”

Daichi and Tetsurou exchange a look and snort in unison. “You tried,” they both say at the same time.

“Gross,” say the three single people at their table.

“Speaking in tandem already? What next, matching outfits? Don’t answer that, I don’t actually want to know.” Suga checks the time on his phone. “Tooru, you should probably head out if you’re planning on getting there by 7:30.”

Tooru sighs tragically one last time, like he’s the waifish heroine in a vampire novel or some bullshit like that, steals Suga’s second-to-last french fry and stands up.

“Good luck with your competition thing,” Daichi says politely. 

“You’ll be fine,” Suga tells him, and shoves Tooru in the direction of the door.

Tooru flashes them a peace sign on his way out. Suga rolls his eyes again, but there’s a fond smile on his face.

“What a doofus,” he sighs, crumpling the paper french fry box into a wad and launching it towards the trash can in the corner. It lands right next to the trash can. The group boos.

Tetsurou takes a long sip of his soda, looking pensive. “Okay, so like, if Oikawa, Moniwa and Ushijima were the principal characters in some kind of dark academia murder mystery story, who’d be the victim, who’d be the murderer, and who’d get framed for it?”

“Oikawa would kill Ushijima,” Suga and Mori say at the same time. 

“Tooru is the only one of those three to be at all bloodthirsty,” Suga adds. 

“Counterargument,” Daichi says, raising an index finger. “Tooru kills Kaname, frames Wakatoshi for it, and hm... someone calm and impartial is the lawyer trying to prove Wakatoshi’s innocence.”

“Akaashi from student radio!” Tetsurou snaps his fingers. “This is great. I’m so inspired, suddenly. Next great American novel, here we come.  _ The Secret History _ whomst?”

Daichi is looking at him with an impossibly soft expression Suga has never seen on his best friend’s face before. Wow, Suga thinks, he’s in deep. 

Daichi just says, “You are...such a nerd.”

“Yeah well you’re  _ dating _ this nerd, so what does that make you? Huh?”

Morisuke elbows Suga. “Let’s get out of here before they get even more embarrassing.”

“You’re just jealous.” Tetsurou singsongs, and then yelps because Mori steps on his foot under the table before leaving.

“Who do you think’ll win the auditorium?” Suga poses the question to the group when they’re cutting across the quad back to the dorm Suga works for. Suga’s the senior RA for one of the upperclassmen dorms on campus, a job he signed up for to get free housing but continues because he ended up being better at it than expected. The rest of them live off campus, making Suga’s room the closest private space they could continue hanging out in for the night.

“Who cares?” Morisuke says. 

“Good point,” Daichi adds.

“I think the environmental club’s going to get it,” Suga says thoughtfully. “Mostly because in the three years I’ve known Tooru, I can’t remember him ever not getting what he wants.”

“Think he’s any good at DDR?” Tetsurou asks. 

Suga, as the person who’s interacted with Tooru the most out of the four of them, considers it. “He’s an obsessive nerd who refuses to be subpar at anything that interests him, so if he says he’s good at it, he probably is.” 

“Okay but.” Tetsurou pauses for effect. “Imagine Ushijima playing DDR. Just imagine it.”

They imagine it.

“I wish I didn’t have homework to do so I could go watch that live,” Daichi admits. “Hopefully someone will be Snapchatting it.”

***

[Group Chat: kenji venmo me 20 dollars challenge]

_ Shigeru Yahaba: come to the arcade/bar thing on riverside at 7:30 if you want an asskicking _

_ Kenjirou Shirabu: was that directed at me or _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: I’ll kick your ass. I’ll kick Chikara’s ass. I’ll kick my own ass _

_ Chikara Ennoshita: wait what do I have to do with this _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: you were just the first name I saw on the online list. anyway, _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: anime club and environmental club (no we’re not rebranding kenji stfu) have decided to... play arcade games for the rights to the auditorium... at 7:30 today _

_ Kenjirou Shirabu: please come so we don’t die of secondhand embarrassment from watching our upperclassmen get way too competitive over dumb shit _

_ Kenji Futakuchi: don’t you also get way too competitive over dumb shit tho _

_ Keiji Akaashi: That’s like the main thing everyone in this group chat has in common. _

_ Kenjirou Shirabu: You Know What, _

_ Kenji Futakuchi: loooooooooool _

_ Kenjirou Shirabu: you still owe me 20 dollars you have no rights _

_ Kenji Futakuchi: I’LL GET TO IT _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: GUYS ARE YOU COMING OR NOT _

_ Keiji Akaashi: My radio show’s from 7 to 8:30 today, sorry :/. _

_ Kenji Futakuchi: I’m down _

_ Chikara Ennoshita: hhhhhhhh quiz tomorrow morning,,,,,,,,,,, _

_ Kenji Futakuchi: :/ _

_ Shigeru Yahaba: :/ _

_ Kenjirou Shirabu: :/ _

_ Chikara Ennoshita: ok ok I’ll study first and then go _

When Chikara finally makes his way to the arcade bar around 8:30 (after making three entire Quizlet sets, mind you) he finds the Arcade Game Battle in full swing. Kenji is recording Mattsun and Satori go head-to-head at — Chikara squints — Whack-a-Mole, while Shigeru and Shirabu stand nearby holding plastic cups of mediocre beer and try to pretend they’re not involved and watch at the same time. Hajime and Tooru are yelling encouraging insults at Mattsun, Reon is yelling actual encouragements at Satori. Wakatoshi is stretching his arms and watching Satori intently.

There are other people in the arcade section of the bar, couples on dates and other students from their college, and none of them seem to be paying any attention to this, the greatest throwdown of the ages. The floor is sticky with spilled alcohol and sodas, and the lighting is dim and neon-tinted. Posters advertising movies and video game releases from the 90s and early 2000s paper the walls.

Chikara walks up between his friends and says, “Boo.” They both jump and scowl at him.

“Who’s winning?”

“Right now, the Weeb Lord,” Shigeru says, making Shirabu choke on his drink. “Reon won at this shooting game thing and you missed me kicking Shirabu’s ass in Smash, again.”

“We shouldn’t have let you pick the game that round,” Shirabu complains, punching Shigeru in the arm lightly.

“You don’t seem to be taking this super seriously,” Chikara observes. “Do you not care about your club’s pride?”

Shirabu shrugs. “It’s a cartoon. A really good cartoon, but still. We can totally watch it somewhere else. It makes more sense for Shige’s club to have the auditorium, even if you didn’t submit your form on time.”

Shigeru puts a hand over his heart dramatically. “I’m touched.”

The Whack-a-Mole game ends, Mattsun graciously conceding his narrow loss to Satori Tendou. Kenji finally notices Chikara’s presence and grins, turning his camera off. “When’d you show up?”

“Just now. Having fun? Pay Shirabu his twenty dollars yet?”

Shirabu tilts his head to one side. “Good question, Chikara,” he says, pointedly enunciating every syllable.

Kenji groans and pulls a bill out of his wallet, practically throwing it at his friend’s face. “Just take it, jeez,” he says. “I’m getting a drink.” He storms off, and as he does, the competitors slowly move towards the DDR set-up in the center of the arcade half of the room. 

Tooru looks prepared. He’s wearing workout clothes and is holding a half-empty bottle of sports drink. Wakatoshi is wearing the exact same outfit he’d worn earlier that day, so, also workout clothes. Shirabu’s convinced he genuinely lives in the gym.

They jump up on the platforms. The crowd (mostly just Satori) goes wild and cheers loudly.

“If you lose you’re treating us to KBBQ on Saturday,” Hajime says, kicking Tooru’s dance platform. Tooru yelps, stumbling slightly, and grabs the handlebar for support.

“KBBQ is expensive! What about boba? Or like... McDonald’s?”

“BBQ or bust,” Mattsun drones, kicking the platform for emphasis as well. Tooru tries to kick him back, but he ducks.

Mattsun elbows Shigeru. “Go on, extort the club president.”

Shigeru stifles a laugh. “I do like Korean barbeque,” he admits. “Do your best, Tooru!”

Tooru flashes a peace sign at them all, sticking his tongue out at the anime club members gathered on Wakatoshi’s side. Chikara and Kenji, as neutral parties, stand exactly between them and also several feet back.

“You can pick the song,” Tooru says, bowing mockingly. Wakatoshi starts scrolling through the song list as his clubmates yell out suggestions.

“Have you even played DDR before?” Tooru asks.

“Once, a few years ago,” Wakatoshi replies, scrolling through the setlist and stopping at Lost One’s Weeping by Neru featuring Rin Kagamine. “But I am confident in my coordination and athletic abilities.”

“Stay on the left and right arrows, not in the center,” Reon yells. “And try to stay balanced!”

Tooru looks over at the screen, and grins. “That song’s tricky, Ushiwaka! Good choice, good choice.”

“Vocaloid? Really?” Mattsun shouts up at him. 

“He’s the president of the anime club, Issei, I don’t know what you were expecting,” Shigeru comments.

“Wakatoshi is mostly aware of Vocaloid through Satori’s influence,” Reon says thoughtfully. “He made a playlist called Songs the Anime Club President Needs to Know and I’m pretty sure this song was on it.”

“Yup!” Satori confirms. “Lost One’s Weeping is so depressing, though. I mean, it’s a bop, but the lyrics are like...” He makes a face. “Do Common World Domination instead, I think they have that one!”

“That one’s also kind of depressing,” Shirabu points out. 

“But less obviously so! It’s more upbeat!”

Wakatoshi Ushijima isn’t one to reconsider his choices once he’s already decided them, so he selects Expert on Lost One’s Weeping, and they start.

Tooru wasn’t kidding when he said he was good at DDR. He moves like this is something familiar and comfortable for him. Wakatoshi, meanwhile, starts off more careful and deliberate, and then seems to loosen up. Tooru keeps sneaking glances at his opponent, but Wakatoshi seems to be doing annoyingly well. Not as good as Tooru, maybe, but better than a beginner has any right to be.

Watching them dance is almost hypnotically mesmerizing. A cluster of girls have drifted over from the bar to the area around them and start giggling and taking videos of the whole thing.

“And for a brief moment, I had forgotten Tooru Oikawa was disgustingly popular,” Kenji sighs ruefully.

“You and me both, buddy.” Mattsun smacks him on the arm in a gesture of friendship.

The song ends, declaring Player One (Tooru)’s victory by a mere handful of points, and it’s Tooru’s turn to pick.

“Common World Domination!” Satori yells.

“One, no one asked you, and two, I’m not that brand of nerd,” Tooru snaps back.

He picks Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon.

“Dare you to sing along and dance at the same time,” Hajime says immediately.

“I have to focus on winning!”

“Don’t you want to impress your adoring fans, as well as my phone camera recording all this for my Snapchat story?” Mattsun implores.

“And also my Snapchat story,” Kenji adds. They look at him as if acknowledging his presence for the first time.

“Who invited the StuCo dweeb,” Tooru asks, leaning forward to scrutinize Kenji. 

Kenji silently flips him off, unimpressed. Tooru gasps exaggerratedly.

“Anyway,” Shigeru cuts in, breaking the tension with a nervous smile. “Tooru, can you please pick a song so we can all go home at a reasonable hour, since  _ some of us _ have morning classes tomorrow?”

Tooru rolls his eyes and hits play on the machine. He seems more at ease this time than the previous round, the early win and favorite song giving him more confidence. The group of girls from the bar clap.

Wakatoshi is watching him with a thoughtful expression on his face.

The intro to Shut Up and Dance filters through, and it’s hard to resist the urge to sing along.

“This song is really heterosexual now that I think about it,” Kenji whispers to Chikara, who laughs softly at him.

“I said you’re holding back, she said ‘shut up and dance with me’!”

The dancers are breathing too hard to sing along, and Tooru seems to be slipping up more this round. He might have played a lot of DDR in his nerd life, but he clearly hasn’t done so very recently, and at the end of this round, the Anime Club is ahead again by another couple hundred points. Wakatoshi seems to have gotten used to the game’s quirks, and by now is hitting the arrows with no problem.

“You are terrible and the worst,” Tooru gets out, panting. 

“You should sleep more,” Wakatoshi says. “Eight hours a night is essential for a young adult.”

Tooru gapes at him. “How the fuck do you know anything about my sleep schedule?”

“I guessed.” Wakatoshi shrugs and hits play on Common World Domination, to which the Anime Club kids cheer.

“PinocchioP is actually super cool,” Satori starts excitedly, but Shirabu cuts him off with “We know. You say this every time a PinocchioP song comes up on one of your playlists. He makes his own music videos, he can draw and compose, he’s so productive, so talented, blah blah blah,  _ we know already _ .”

“Well, fuck you too, then. Shiraboo-boo.” Satori sticks his tongue out at Shirabu.

Shirabu takes a sip from his long-neglected plastic cup, unfazed.

This last round is intense, both of the players focused and concentrating hard on matching the rhythm while Hatsune Miku sings about how “Thank you” and “Good morning” will someday be nostalgic words. Neither of them are making any missteps this time. 

The tinkly electronic outro fades out, and Hajime takes a break from scolding/cheering Oikawa to check his phone. “Uh, guys?” 

Tooru turns around and leans against the armrest. “What’s up?”

“I got an email from the climatologist speaker lady. She’s okay with moving her talk to 5 p.m. instead of 7. We don’t need the anime club to switch to a different timeslot after all.”

If this were a movie, Chikara thinks, the sound would cut out now, and everything would go silent to accomodate the shock of this anticlimax. It isn’t a movie though, so the DDR game’s sound effects continue to play and the people not part of their core group continue to chat and socialize like nothing important has happened, Tooru’s new fangirls drifting back towards the bar area now that the show is apparently over, while the anime and environmental club officers all stand there, stunned. 

“So this was all... totally pointless?” Shirabu whispers. “All that emotional energy... wasted? For nothing?”

Hajime’s still looking at the email. “I mean, yeah. We all get what we want, this time.”

Tooru looks like he wants to say something else, but doesn’t. Chikara can guess, though. Someone as competitive and petty as Tooru would never be happy with a simple concession instead of a battle of wits and skills. 

“You don’t have to pay for KBBQ,” Mattsun adds, although even he sounds dazed.

“Who even won the last round?” Kenji asks, typing something into his phone. 

Tooru and Wakatoshi turn back to the DDR screen, but the game has already timed out and reset. They look at each other. 

“Did you remember the score?” Tooru asks. Wakatoshi shakes his head.

He kicks the machine, which doesn’t accomplish anything. It’s symbolic, Chikara thinks.

***

The group slowly emerges from the arcade-bar into the night-time college town, bantering and complaining. Riverside Street really is by the river, the road lined with historic cobblestones and cute little shops catering to tourists. Since it’s a Tuesday night, the street is pretty empty except for them and any other college students making inadvisable life choices right now.

“I messaged Kaname to confirm the new timeslot for us. He says it’s fine,” Tooru mutters distractedly. “It’s just! That easy! Huh!”

Wakatoshi taps him on the shoulder to get his attention, shoving Tooru forward a few feet. Tooru bristles like a surprised cat. “What do you want?”

“I would like to say,” Wakatoshi rumbles, slowly and deliberately. “You played well. You were a worthy opponent.”

This shocks Tooru enough that he actually stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk and turns around to face Wakatoshi, who does not step aside but instead stays put, like a human brick wall. “A worthy oppo—” Tooru repeats. “You’re kidding, right? It’s an arcade game, Ushiwaka! Get over yourself! It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“But it was, though. For you, and your club,” Wakatoshi points out. Tooru spins around on his heel and keeps walking fast, flipping his middle finger up as a parting gesture.

The rest of the group had walked on ahead, and Tooru catches up to them quickly. Mattsun smirks at him and slings an arm over his shoulder, Hajime doing the same on his other side. “Elaborate dance-based mating ritual not work out in your favor, huh?”

“That wasn’t—! Dude!”

“I have your S.A.D post drafted already, just say the word.”

“ISSEI MATSUKAWA I SWEAR TO GOD—”

Satori drapes himself over Wakatoshi’s shoulders when he finally catches up. Wakatoshi keeps walking like nothing’s happening. “You did great, my guy! Never would’ve guessed that was your first time playing DDR!” 

Wakatoshi is silent for a moment, thinking. “I would like to know who won that last game,” he says eventually. “Even though it’s ultimately irrelevant...”

“You wish you’d won, huh? I get that.” Satori gazes in the direction of the environmental club group up ahead. “Hey, Wakatoshi?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you could bench-press Tooru?” He pitches his voice slightly louder when he asks this, which has the effect of making Tooru slow down to hear the answer.

“Probably,” Wakatoshi says, squinting at Tooru in the dim glow of the nighttime streetlamps.

“Hey Tooruru, wanna see if—”

“Please never speak to me again,” Tooru says, while his friends howl with laughter around them. 

***

The Inter-Club Council meets once a month during the school year, so the second annual meeting happens approximately two weeks after the great Anime Club-Environmental Club Arcade Game Throwdown. 

Kaname Moniwa, looking slightly more well-rested and marginally less stressed in that antebellum period between the beginning of the semester and midterms, reads the items of interest off his laptop with relief in his voice. “Hi, everyone, hope you had a good first month of school. Okay, so, first up, please be more mindful about submitting your meeting reports on time, we haven’t been getting them from a few clubs. You know who you are. If you fail to submit five reports, your club status will be up for review and potentially dissolved.”

Everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats, surreptitiously messaging officer group chats to double check that they have, in fact, submitted their meeting reports on time. Kenji smirks imperiously at everyone. Kaname just sighs and says, “Come on, guys, we need to know that your clubs have meetings and people go to them. Please?”

The club officers nod shamefacedly, the threat of making Kaname disappointed being surprisingly effective. Kaname smiles and continues to read. “Second thing, as I’m sure most of you have already heard, the environmental club has reserved the auditorium for 5 to 7 p.m. on April 22nd, while the anime club has the auditorium from 7 to 9 on the same day.”

Everyone claps. Kenji had uploaded his Snapchat story from the arcade bar to the ICC Facebook group, keeping every single university club officer up to date on the drama whether they wanted to be informed or not.

Tooru stands up and takes a bow, like this was all his gracious concession and not a conveniently-timed email. Hajime kicks him. He sits back down, grumbling. 

Wakatoshi sits on Tooru’s other side, notebook open and flipped to a blank page for taking notes about the meeting. Tooru had decided, when he and Hajime walked in, that they were going to sit next to the anime club officers as a show of good feelings and buried hatchets. Wakatoshi had reacted with a mildly surprised “Good afternoon,” and Satori just laughed.

“What, Tooruru, you think we’re all friends after that?” he says now, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning dangerously far back in his chair. 

“Didn’t I ask you to never speak to me again?” Tooru steals a complimentary ICC meeting cookie from Hajime’s napkin. Hajime retaliates by elbowing Tooru in the side, hard. “ _ Ow! _ ”

“Uh, guys? Can we focus, please?” Kaname asks, smile wavering again at the unwelcome realization of having to deal with Tooru Oikawa for yet another ICC meeting, and also, the rest of the semester.

Tooru huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, glaring towards the center of the long conference table.

Kaname clears his throat. “So uh.” He squints at his notes. “The Langue du Chat Literary Magazine and Flying Crows Dance Crew are holding a... combination dance showcase and open mic night?”

“It’s like an open mic, except if you want to do a dance instead of sing or read something, you can,” Tetsurou explains. “And the dance crew will perform a few of their routines too.” He shoots a fond look at Daichi, who blushes. Tooru rolls his eyes. 

The editor-in-chief of the literary magazine and the captain of the dance crew are sitting next to each other at this ICC meeting, their vice presidents on either side of them. Tetsurou rests his arm on the back of Daichi’s chair in a move that seems natural and almost expected for them. 

“Neat.” Kaname says. “It’ll be in the Student Center two weeks from now, see the group’s social media for more information...” He looks at the representatives of the two clubs present at the meeting. “Do you guys want to add anything to this?”

“There will be food,” Suga says. Everyone cheers. “But yeah, please come, it’ll be fun, thank you.”

The other club officers applaud dutifully. Kaname breathes out a sigh of relief. “I think that’s everything for today’s meeting. Uh, keep working hard and good luck on your midterms!”

Kenji bangs a book on the conference room table instead of a gavel, making Kaname wince. “Meeting dismissed!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *elaborate shrugging motion*  
this is the longest thing I've written since december 2017. idk how I feel about it. but it sure does exist  
ushijima's favorite manga in this universe is barakamon and that is all I have to say on anime club president ushijima.  
mattsun does auction oikawa off on subtle asian dating. He gets 1000 new followers on insta and zero dates out of the experience. Press F to pay respects  
shout-out to my rl friend and former ddr nerd KJ for telling me [which](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2l8wNc6Xgc) [songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UY-RhU0EHI) [my](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xw27HQ7pujs) fanfiction characters should dance to. yes I have opinions about vocaloid which I shamelessly shoved into tendou  
tigger I'm sorry I couldn't fit your poll into my fic I did try tho  
talk to me on [tumblr](http://cubistemoji.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/mozaikmage/)  



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